Higuain's own strength was obviously not as weak as it seemed, and the dragon's back was at least three blades from the ground, two stories high. His steps were light and steady as he jumped, like a dead leaf falling slowly.

Richard couldn't do that himself, and it wasn't a problem for him to jump from the height of ten blades, but there was a big pit in the ground.

"I'm going to make you regret your arrogance for the rest of your life!" Iguai, who was five times tall, drew his trumpet sword, which was a little more delicate than a porcelain doll, and it looked a little ridiculous to be ruthless. But what is not ridiculous is that a slant of crimson fighting qi burst out from the blade of the sword, condensed and restrained.

This level of vindictiveness is at least not far from Dracula. Considering Higuain's age, it's clear that he's incredibly talented in fighting spirit, and he doesn't rely entirely on dragons for food.

Richard smiled and stretched, and the surge of radiance began.

Compared with Douqi, the effect of the Holy Word Prayer is relatively restrained, and most of the others have no reaction. Only the prime-aged Frost Dragon, who had been lying on the ground and had been lazily on the ground, turned his head sharply and stared directly at the Lord of the High Mountain Fort with huge eyes as bright as topaz.

Dragons are no less intelligent than humans, and they live much longer. So in terms of insight, it's often very outstanding.

"We're on a mission to breach Winterfell, and I want you to exercise restraint!" Zed was still trying to put an end to this pointless dispute.

"It is the knight's duty to teach the arrogant scoundrel a lesson!" Higuain swung his long sword, and he was automatically clothed without wind.

The lord was just about to speak, when he was interrupted by a low cry of brushing.

"Wori!"

What caught his eye made Richard subconsciously speak rudely, but everyone present had no idea at all, and all of them opened their mouths wide, as if they had woken up to see the sun rising in the west.

In fact, although they didn't see the sun, they were not much worse.

Three blazing fireballs soared into the sky from Winterfell, reaching their apex and beginning to fall at an accelerated rate.

Obviously, the practice of blessing trebuchets is not a Pompeii patent. Although the mages in Winterfell are far less powerful than the Pompeii Expeditionary Force, and they can't make a big deal of dozens of trebuchets to rain down meteor showers at one time, if they are more capable of hitting the vital points, they may be stronger.

There are many advantages to having a good position for the defender in a siege, such as not having to calibrate at all. Because the shooting Zhu Yuan had already been marked, the first wave of quasi-heads was ridiculously high, and flew straight towards the Pompeii mage group in mid-air.

There are several court mages in the mage group, with high-level mage titles, and there is no doubt about their magical attainments. The air masses that had been holding the mages began to move slowly, dodging the trajectory of the falling stone balls.

After all, there are only a dozen people, and the station is relatively concentrated, so the target is actually quite small. In addition, it is difficult to achieve accuracy in the first place, and it is almost a fool's dream for the three stone balls to directly hit the mage group with a certain mobility ability!

According to the current trend, the stone orb would pass ten yards away from the mage group and then vent its power in the grassy clearing behind them.

But how could the Stuart mage let go of this opportunity and hit the three stone balls with a spell himself. It was as if it was a repeat of the previous scenario, and the stone ball, which was extremely unstable in its elemental structure, immediately began to burst.

The Pompeii mage group, which was already at a disadvantage, ushered in a major test of life and death.

In the face of the staggering power of the stone, the outermost layer of water vapor shield supported a few breaths before turning into nothing. Some mages were more clever, and they had already prepared their shields, and they were able to barely block the stones.

But the Stuart mages didn't have the pressure to defend, and this was their chance to beat the Reservoir Dogs. The spells that followed were like a sharp knife, stabbing at the softest and most defenseless underbelly of the mage.

Except for a few court mages who are of high quality, they are still calm in the face of sudden changes in the situation. Ordinary military mages were simply unable to deal with such a fierce switch of attack and defense, and in an instant, the sky was like dumplings, and pieces of mutilated corpses fell one after another.

The surviving mages of Pompeii immediately gave up the confrontation and quickly withdrew from the battle.

Richard watched all this, and was left dumbfounded.

Mages are the pride of the army, and a 40,000-strong army will not have many mages accompanying the army, which is full of gold. Their wealth can also be proved from another angle - to this day, the famous Eagle Knight does not even have half a serious mage under his command, only a group of two-sword wilderness shamans.

In other words, in just a few breaths, the Expeditionary Force lost at least as many spellcasting forces as five "Alpine Fort Spellcasting Teams".

Even though these mages had nothing to do with him at all, Richard still felt suffocated. To suffer this kind of loss in the case of a high mountain fort, finding a tree with a crooked neck and hanging it was his only option.

The consequences of the three stone balls are more than that.

When the rubble flew further into the distance, the surrounding soldiers and leprosy suddenly fell into bad luck. Although they were wearing armor, they were not much different from their bare backs in front of the flying stones with amazing strength and extremely high temperature, and they were immediately killed and injured.

The worst of them were the sappers who operated the trebuchets, many of whom carried large thick leather bags on their backs, and the slightest movement was filled with the sound of "clattering water".

Before Pompeii first began projecting, he had poured the liquid from his skin over the stone balls, and the smell of wine was evident. In fact, it is not only alcohol, but also phlogiston extracted from asphalt in order to further increase the purity of the fire element.

If you want to separate that bit of ignitin from the massive asphalt, the manpower and material resources consumed should not be underestimated. And the reason why Pompeii is willing to pay such a heavy price is, of course, because it is worth the money.

As soon as it was touched by the gravel falling from the sky, the liquid in the skin immediately began to spray and burn.

Once this fuel is ignited, there is no possibility of extinguishing it, and it will not stop until the last moment.

"Ahh

That's why fire magic has always been an evergreen on the battlefield, and its ability to deal secondary spread damage is not at all comparable to other magic.

The first offensive of the Pompeii expeditionary force ended in failure, leaving behind corpses and wounded soldiers who could not afford to retreat, and the front-line infantry, which had suffered heavy losses, began to retreat. Sending them off were flaming siege engines and cheering Stuarts.

The front-line soldiers are brave and fearless, and they have done everything they can. But under extremely adverse conditions, their bravery could not change the established defeat.